Date: May 13, 2012 Title: “Fruits of Our Labors” Preaching: The Rev. Donna M.L. Pritchard Scripture: John 15:9-17
There is an old preacher’s joke (perhaps you’ve heard it), that goes like this: A preacher was giving the children’s sermon in worship one day, and started out by asking “What’s warm and brown and fuzzy?” Whereupon one precocious child answered, “I know the answer is probably Jesus, but it sounds all the world like a squirrel to me!”
The answer is probably Jesus, but it sounds more like a squirrel to me. How often it seems we fall into the temptation to make of Jesus little more than something warm and brown and fuzzy. We want Christ to be something as easy to imagine, pleasant to watch, and warm to hold as a squirrel… well, maybe a stuffed squirrel, or at least a tame one!
But the Gospel lesson today effectively reminds us that Jesus is not now, nor ever was, a simple sentimentalist. And it tells us in no uncertain terms that Christ’s love cannot be reduced to a Hallmark card or a few dozen roses. Because Jesus’ love is not a love which takes us just as we are and leaves us there. It is not a love which condones all that we do, nor accepts all that we do not do. Jesus’ love is a love which speaks truth to us and asks us to follow. Jesus’ love is a love which always involves action, and always requires a response.
A response like – for instance – housing homeless families with compassion and respect for the past 18 years. Eighteen years of not only offering safe temporary shelter, but also working to alleviate homelessness by providing the resources, the support, the encouragement, and the friendship needed to place one family at a time in stable housing. Eighteen years of working together as volunteers and as staff, offering Jesus’ kind of love to one another and to all those we have been honored to call our guests. Eighteen years of knowing that every night is an important night, and that the work of compassion does not end just because we may be tired of sleeping in the gym. This work cannot end just because we may be weary of bringing in supper, or just because we might be anxious about our own church budget.
Jesus says, “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love”. This is what our faith ultimately boils down to – love. Someone else put it this way:
“The bottom line is not what we believe (as if Christianity were about creeds). It is not even whether or not we believe in love. It is about actually loving.”
In today’s Gospel lesson Jesus speaks of his commandments. And we wonder, “Where’s that list?” The truth is, you can look all through the New Testament and you will find Jesus giving only one single commandment – to love one another.
He says nothing at all about how we should “feel” in our relationship with him. But only volumes about how we are to act. Jesus seems much more interested in the fruits of our labors than in all of our best intentions. So that even after 18 years in the shelter business, we still have to ask ourselves two questions in the face of every decision, every choice, every plan, every vision we propose for our church. First, we have to ask “Is this rooted in love?” And then, equally important, “Will this bear fruit for the reign of God?”
Today, as you know, is Mother’s Day. And it is a day ripe for misunderstanding and missing each other. If we try to focus only upon the warm fuzzies of sentimental love, or try to look only at how we feel about our mothers (or for that matter, our children), we might misunderstand our love. And we might miss each other entirely.
Robert Fulghum shares these reflections about Mother’s Day: “For 25 years of my life, the second Sunday in May was trouble. Being the minister of a church, I felt obliged in some way to address the subject of Mother’s Day. When it came to the second Sunday in May, the expectations were summarized in these words by one of the more outspoken women in the church: ‘I’m bringing my mother to church on Mother’s Day, Reverend. And you can talk about anything you like. But it had better include mother, and it had better be good.’
One memorable Sunday I said, for all those who had wonderful mothers or who were wonderful mothers or who thought motherhood in general was just wonderful…I would like to say wonderful. But – and then I gave sort of a mock quiz, asking some questions without asking for a show of hands:
How many of you find yourself uncomfortable around Mother’s Day?
How many of you don’t really like (or even hate) the mothering you’ve received?
How many of you don’t really like your children?
How many of you don’t really know your mother at all?
How many of you find Mother’s Day painful, involving thoughts of abortion, divorce, suicide, rejection, alcoholism, alienation, abuse, sorrow, or loss?
You see, it is not always a simple and straightforward thing, this day of
celebration. Because it is not always easy, choosing to love. And this is where our sentimentalizing – about moms or dads or kids or even about God – falls far short. We cannot expect love to just happen. Not in the church, not in society, not even in our families, will that necessarily occur. Because love in Jesus’ sense of the word implies a choice, it requires a response, and always involves action.
Henri Nouwen puts it this way: “The mystery of ministry (of what we do together as a church) is that we have been chosen to make our own limited and very conditional love the gateway for the unlimited and unconditional love of God.”
It is a mystery, and it is a wonder – that you and I together could bring our own imperfect and incomplete love and God can use us to share God’s unbounded and unconditional love with all the world.
So what, you might ask, became of Rev. Fulghum on that infamous second Sunday in May? He writes:
“A visiting lady, who had ‘sainted mother’ written all over her face, accosted me after the service. ‘Young man’, she said, ‘better men than you have gone straight to hell for suggesting less than what you said this morning!’”
Sometimes it seems that sentiment and truth are complete strangers to one another. As we lose ourselves inside our valiant attempts to hang onto our warm brown fuzzies, even at the risk of losing touch with that which we so desperately desire. Even at the risk of forgetting to notice the fruits of our labors, the proof of our love.
One Mother’s Day, about fourteen years ago, it was a lovely spring day, much like this one today. Sarah and Kate and I had been to Sunday School and also to church, and we had come home for lunch and presents (my personal favorite part of Mother’s Day!). I opened the gift form Sarah and then Kate suggested we needed to retire to the backyard for me to receive her gift.
There, five-year-old Kate had set up lawn chairs facing the swing set in the corner of the yard. Once I was comfortably seated, she rather dramatically told me that her Mother’s Day gift to me would an active one, as she performed various tricks on the swings. Ah, performance art!
I remember at the time laughing with Sarah about this gift. But I’ve got to tell you, after all these years, after all those Mother’s Days gone by, the gift I remember the most is the gift from that swing set. It is the gift from that child’s heart which understood, somehow, that it is the fruits of our labors that count.
It is the fruits of our labors – our actions – that defines our love. So the question for all of us today is this – what are you producing? And how will your fruits be shared? For the sake of Christ, and in response to his love. Amen.
Scripture: Ephesians 1:15-23 Sermon: Seeing by Heart, Rev. Donna Pritchard preaching Focus: Encouragement; wisdom from within
This Week’s Music
Prelude: Festive Peal, Karen Thompson; The Sanctuary Bells, Nancy Hascall, director
Anthem: Te Deum (Chorus 3 & 4), Antonin Dvorak; The Chancel Choir, Erick Lichte, conductor
Offertory: O God, Beneath Thy Guiding Hand, William A. Payn; The Sanctuary Bells, Nancy Hascall, director
Postlude: Toccata, Theodore Dubois;
We extend a special welcome to our visitors. Portland First United Methodist Church declares that we will be an advocate for peace in our local communities and world. As a Reconciling Congregation, members of this congregation have pledged to welcome and support all who want to worship with us, regardless of race, gender, class or sexual orientation.
Visit the Coffee Hour after worship today for a tasty treat, good coffee, and lively conversation. It is a great opportunity to learn more about the people and programs of First Church.
Scripture: John 15:9-17 Sermon:Fruits of our Labors, Rev. Donna Pritchard preaching Focus: Love is a verb and actions of faithfulness
This Week’s Music
Prelude: Supplication, Richard Purvis (1912-1994); Jonas Nordwall, organist
Anthem: I Will Not Leave You Comfortless, Everett Titcomb; Portland State University Madrigal Ensemble, under the direction of Erick Lichte
Offertory: Tu es Petrus, Robert Pearsall; Portland State University Madrigal Ensemble, under the direction of Erick Lichte
Postlude: Final – Marche, Leon Boellmann (1862-1897);
Happy Mother’s Day! We extend a special welcome to all of our mothers as well as our visitors. Portland First United Methodist Church declares that we will be an advocate for peace in our local communities and world. As a Reconciling Congregation, members of this congregation have pledged to welcome and support all who want to worship with us, regardless of race, gender, class or sexual orientation.
Visit the Coffee Hour after worship today for a tasty treat, good coffee, and lively conversation. It is a great opportunity to learn more about the people and programs of First Church.
Prelude: Allegretto, Joseph Clokey; Jonas Nordwall, organist
Offertory: Joy and Elation, Cynthia Dobrinski; juBELLation, Karin McDonough, director
Communion Music: It is Well with My Soul, Phillip Bliss; Violin Duet
Postlude: Toccata in Bb, Louis Vierne;
We extend a special welcome to our visitors. Portland First United Methodist Church declares that we will be an advocate for peace in our local communities and world. As a Reconciling Congregation, members of this congregation have pledged to welcome and support all who want to worship with us, regardless of race, gender, class or sexual orientation.
Visit the Coffee Hour after worship today for a tasty treat, good coffee, and lively conversation. It is a great opportunity to learn more about the people and programs of First Church.
Scripture: John 10:11-18 Sermon: A Proposal, Rev. Chuck Currie preaching
This Week’s Music
Prelude: Basse et Dessus de Trompette, Louis-Nicolas Clerambault;
Anthem: Christ is Made the Sure Foundation, Dale Wood; The Chancel Choir, Erick Lichte, conductor
Offertory: Alleluia!, Ferdinand Hummel; Carol Young, soloist
Postlude: Litanies, Jehan Alain;
We extend a special welcome to our visitors. Portland First United Methodist Church declares that we will be an advocate for peace in our local communities and world. As a Reconciling Congregation, members of this congregation have pledged to welcome and support all who want to worship with us, regardless of race, gender, class or sexual orientation.
Visit the Coffee Hour after worship today for a tasty treat, good coffee, and lively conversation. It is a great opportunity to learn more about the people and programs of First Church.
Scripture: Luke 24:36-48; 1 John 3:1-7 Sermon: Believing is Seeing, Rev. Donna Pritchard preaching Focus: Taking a leap of faith and challenging community
We extend a special welcome to our visitors. Portland First United Methodist Church declares that we will be an advocate for peace in our local communities and world. As a Reconciling Congregation, members of this congregation have pledged to welcome and support all who want to worship with us, regardless of race, gender, class or sexual orientation.
Visit the Coffee Hour after worship today for a tasty treat, good coffee, and lively conversation. It is a great opportunity to learn more about the people and programs of First Church.
Scripture: John 20:19-31 Sermon: Finding Resurrection, Rev. Jim Ruyle preaching
This Week’s Music
Prelude: Andante Cantable, Edwin H. Lemare ( 1866-1934); Jonas Nordwall, organist
Anthem: Amazing Grace, John Coates, Jr.; The Chancel Choir, Mark Woodward, conducting
Offertory: O Divine Redeemer, Charles Gounod; Charles Kovach, solist
Postlude: A Joyous March, Leo Sowerby (1895-1968);
We extend a special welcome to our visitors. Portland First United Methodist Church declares that we will be an advocate for peace in our local communities and world. As a Reconciling Congregation, members of this congregation have pledged to welcome and support all who want to worship with us, regardless of race, gender, class or sexual orientation.
Visit the Coffee Hour after worship today for a tasty treat, good coffee, and lively conversation. It is a great opportunity to learn more about the people and programs of First Church.
Date: April 8, 2012 Title: “Why Are You Weeping?” Preaching: The Rev. Donna M.L. Pritchard Scripture: John 20:1-18
It seems that three people have died, and typically, they are standing at the gates of heaven, asking to come in. So St. Peter says to them – “It’s easy; all you have to do is have an interview with God and define Easter.”
The first one goes in and says, “Everyone knows that Easter is a great holiday. There’s usually a little bit of a nip in the air, families get together for a huge feast, often cooking up a turkey, and then after dinner they all sit around and watch football on television.” “Oh”, God says, “I’m sorry. You seem to be thinking of Thanksgiving; I’m afraid you can’t come in.”
The second person goes into the interview, laughing, and says, “Oh goodness! Everyone knows that Easter is a wonderful holiday, and that it happens in the summer when it is usually rather warm (unless of course you live in western Oregon, then it is usually raining). Families get together at the lake, have big barbeques, and then at night they shoot off fireworks.” Once again God sighs, and says, “I’m sorry. That is the 4th of July you’re thinking of; you can’t come in.”
So the third person comes to see God, saying “For heaven’s sake! Everyone knows that Easter is celebrated on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the Spring equinox (which of course explains why it is a moveable feast). And it is that day when we remember the resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who was crucified, died, and was buried, and after three days he arose from the tomb….and if he sees his shadow, we’ll have six more weeks of winter!”
I hope that made you laugh a little, as it is one of my all time favorite theological jokes. So I hope it made you laugh – but also that it maybe made you think, just a little. To think about why it is we have gathered here today. To consider what it is we celebrate. And even more importantly – what difference Easter might make.
Undoubtedly, most of us could recite the “party line” about Easter. We could explain when it is celebrated and what it recalls. It would be no big thing to read the creed – Jesus was crucified, died, and was buried, and in three days he arose from the tomb – but could we then go on to suggest what difference it makes for us?
“Why are you weeping?” the angels and Jesus himself ask Mary. And Mary might have easily replied, “Why aren’t you weeping?” Don’t you read the papers, watch the evening news, listen to NPR? If you are paying any attention at all to the state of the world, why aren’t you weeping?
When our hopes appear to have been unfounded, and our dreams are dashed to smithereens; when we are held hostage by technological tyranny, or limited by our own consumerism; when we are intimidated by the world’s violent responses to never ending violence; when we are buried alive in mountains of debt or lost within dark tombs of fear…what else is there to do, but to weep?
It is easy to understand Mary’s tears, for we have shed them, too. Expecting nothing, probably just heading out to spend a little time alone with her grief, Mary is thinking that the gig is up, that fear and hatred have won the day. And then – miraculously – peering through her tears, Mary recognizes Jesus. And discovers that God is still in the game, and that now, all the rules of the game have changed.
That is what resurrection means. Not just for Mary in that long-ago cemetery, but for us, in the midst of whatever graveyard we inhabit today. Resurrection means recognizing that God is still in the game; and that the rules of the game have forever changed. Bruce Epperly puts it this way: The pathway of resurrection sees angels in boulders and possibilities within limitations.
So it is good for us to ask each other this morning – “why are you weeping”? Why is it so difficult to see beyond the pain of our own Good Fridays? Why do we seem to want to hang onto the betrayals of our Maundy Thursdays? Why do we insist on lying, fallow, in the uncertainty of our Holy Saturdays? Perhaps it is because we have forgotten that it is not crucifixion which saves us… it is resurrection!
Like Peter in John’s Gospel, we are often in a big hurry to leave the tomb. We become impatient with the mystery, or immune to the wonder, and so we just go home. We hear others suggestions that things have changed, but we wonder. We read various interpretations of the story, and still we wonder. Some will take the Bible literally when reading that the stone’s been rolled away, while others will spend this Sunday simply rolling their eyes.
But for all of us – regardless of where we place ourselves along that theological continuum, there remains this one continuous Easter surprise – the staggering mystery of God’s abiding love for every one of us. For every one of us… for you, and even for me.
Someone else put it this way:
Surrendering to the truth and power of the resurrection means embracing the fact that there is no good excuse any more for letting those stones – whatever they might be…our addictions, our fears, our anger, our petty jealousies, our shame, our guilt – there is no good excuse for letting any of those stones get in the way of our living.
The stones have been rolled back. And now, all there is for us is to practice resurrection. Practicing resurrection means doing more than weeping. It means remembering daily that the stones have already been rolled away!
Perhaps Garrison Keillor is onto something when he writes:
Life is complicated and not for the timid. It is an experience that, when it’s done, it will take us awhile to get over it. We’ll look back on all the good things we surrendered in favor of deadly trash and wish we had returned and reclaimed them.
Every time we read a book about how to be more efficient, how to be happy, how to lose weight or gain money or grow old gracefully, we think “Well, I won’t make those mistakes; I won’t have to go through that.” But the truth is we will all have to go through that. And we will all make pretty much the same mistakes. Because life is not a vicarious experience where you get it figured out and then one day life just happens to you.
The same is true for Easter. Because resurrection is not a vicarious experience and it is not a spectator sport. We may get it figured out one day – or we may not ever really understand it. We may still be standing around, weeping, when one day Easter will happen to us. Because resurrection demands participation.
Barbara Brown Taylor puts it this way:
No one on earth can say precisely what happened inside that tomb, because no one was there. They all arrived after the fact. Two of them saw clothes. One of them saw angels. Most of them saw nothing at all because they were still in bed that morning. But as it turned out, that did not matter, because the empty tomb was not the point.
Clearly, Jesus was not there. He had outgrown his tomb, which was too small a focus for resurrection. The risen one had people to see and things to do. (Just like us) The living one’s business was among the living.
Easter begins the moment the gardener says “Mary!” and she recognizes who it is. That is where the miracle happened, and where it goes on happening – not in the tomb, but in the encounter with the living Lord…where we find, to our great surprise, that we are not alone, and that we will never know where Christ might turn up next.
As we practice resurrection, the trick for us is the same as it was for Mary…
Don’t become so focused on the emptiness of the tomb that you forget to speak to the gardener.
Because Easter demands participation. Why are you weeping? Let us rejoice. And let us practice resurrection! Amen.
Join us this week for worship at 9:00 and at 11:00.
Scripture: John 20:1-18 Sermon:Why Are you Weeping?, Rev. Donna Pritchard preaching Focus: The Resurrection Celebration
This Week’s Music
Anthem: Alleluia! Christ Is Risen!, William Mathias; The Chancel Choir and The Festival Brass, Erick Lichte, conductor
Offertory: If Ye Then Be Risen With Christ, C. V. Stanford; The Chancel Choir and The Festival Brass, Erick Lichte, conductor
Postlude: Finale (Grande Piece Symphonique), Cesar Franck;
We extend a special welcome to our visitors. Portland First United Methodist Church declares that we will be an advocate for peace in our local communities and world. As a Reconciling Congregation, members of this congregation have pledged to welcome and support all who want to worship with us, regardless of race, gender, class or sexual orientation.
Families and kids are encouraged to come to worship together on Easter Sunday. The nursery will be open at 8:30 a.m. There will be an Easter activity period during the worship service, following Children’s Time. Easter activity time will be held during both services and will meet in Room 206. First grade students and younger are invited to join in the fun!
Second grade and older are invited to stay and worship with their family during the service.
Then following each service there will be an Easter Egg hunt in the Fireside Lounge. Bring your Easter Basket and a camera!
Date: April 1, 2012 Title: “Reflections on Pathway of Palms” Preaching: The Rev. Donna M.L. Pritchard Scripture: Mark 11:1-11
We had quite a parade today, didn’t we? And it was good to do something a little different today, to help us take note of this day of celebration. We are all so busy in our everyday lives, it is too easy to miss the moments of joy, to walk right on by and miss the wonder, the spontaneity, the possibility of celebration.
Gertrud Mueller, in her book, To Dance with God, tells the story of one afternoon when she was engrossed in a sewing project. Her daughter Annika was three years old at the time, and she amused herself playing with the scraps of fabric her mother discarded as she sewed.
At one point, Gertrud realized she hadn’t seen Annika for several minutes, so she went to find her daughter. There she was, in the back garden, sitting in the grass with a long pole, several strips of fabric and great big wads of scotch tape. “I’m making a banner”, Annika told her mother. “I’m making a banner for a procession…I need a procession, so that God will come down and dance with us.”
Perhaps the crowds in Jerusalem – and all of us – can relate to Annika’s intentions. Sometimes it feels as if we just need a procession. And it may not matter whether we have fabric scraps or palm branches, tambourines or balloons, brass bands or even just you and me. We want to put together the best parade possible. Because the truth is, God has already come down, to live and work, to walk and dance with each of one of us!
That is what Palm Sunday is all about, I think. It is about recognizing – claiming, even – the need we all have for the parade. It is about claiming the need we have and the vulnerability we face, when we admit to ourselves and to one another that we want God to come down and dance with us, because we need God to inhabit our everyday lives. Perhaps the crowd in Jerusalem was just trying to get God to come down and dance with them as they waved their branches and shouted their hosannas.
“Hosanna”… it is such a strange word. I wonder – when was the last time you used that word? Hosanna! Have you ever used it at work? Or how about when out to dinner with your friends? Hosanna! Have you ever had occasion to jump up in the midst of a family gathering, or in a public park, or even alone on a mountain top…and shout out “hosanna”?
Probably not. In fact, I am willing to guess that the last time you heard “hosanna”, much less used it, was about a year ago – on another Palm Sunday! It’s a strange word, and it is difficult to define. Scholars’ best guess is that it is a contraction of two Hebrew terms: yaw-shah, meaning to save or deliver; and naw, meaning to beseech or to pray.
So when the crowds begin shouting out “hosanna”, what they are really saying to Jesus is “we beseech you to deliver us”. The crowd is crying out, “save us, Jesus!” And I find myself wondering, “from what?”
Scott Black Johnston suggests it is a complicated thing to ask “What does God save us from?” In his words:
I am certain the Biblical witness supports me in this. Take, for example, our Palm Sunday text. Do you think the people lining the streets of Jerusalem were primarily concerned about ‘hell’ when they were shouting out to Jesus to save them?
If the Gospels hint at the crowd’s motivation, it was that the people wanted to be saved from the Romans. They wanted deliverance from an occupying army.
So when we wave our palms and boldly cry out “Hosanna!” – do we dare to imagine what we really want God to save us from? Do we dare to ask:
God, save me from anger
God, save me from cancer
God, save me from debt
God, save me from the strife in my family
God, save me from boredom
God, save me from an endless cycle of violence, or from depression, or from humiliation
Save me from bitterness, or from arrogance, or from loneliness
Save me from waking up at 3:00 am and wondering why I even exist
Taken from this angle, the parade all of a sudden goes beyond the superficial celebration. And we are not just marching from Collins Hall to the Sanctuary, but are traveling from the most vulnerable places inside of us, from the most honest and real parts of ourselves. And we are parading right past our ordinary lives into God’s extraordinary presence.
Hosanna! Save us, God. Take the broken places that tear us apart and make them whole. Jump into this life with us and free us to dance with you. Jan Richardson puts it this way:
The road that Jesus traveled to Jerusalem in order to make his entrance that we celebrate on Palm Sunday was not terribly long in terms of physical distance. Yet it was miles deep, marked by years of preparation and prayer, discernment and courage, as Jesus traveled further into the fullness of who he was meant to become.
So the question we might want to ask this morning is, what road are we taking as we gather to celebrate, to worship, and even to live? Again, in Richardson’s words:
What road do we travel to meet this Christ who comes toward us on that
ancient way of procession and pilgrimage? What journey do we need to
take, by inches and by miles, in order to welcome him?
For blessed is the One who comes to us by the way of love poured out
with abandon. Blessed is the One who walks toward us by the way of
grace that holds us fast. Blessed is the One who calls us to follow in the
way of blessing, in the path of joy.
Scripture: Psalm 118:102, 19-29; Mark 11:1-11 Sermon:Reflections on Pathway of Palms, Rev. Donna Pritchard preaching Focus: Jesus’ victorious entry in Jerusalem
This Week’s Music
Prelude: Christ’s Entry Into Jerusalem, Stanley Saxton; Jonas Nordwall, organist
Anthem: Sanctus from Réquiem, Maurice Duruflé; The Chancel Choir, Erick Lichte, conductor
Offertory: Aria from Kantate 51, J. S. Bach; Deborah Benke, soloist
Postlude: Toccata in D Minor (Dorian), J. S. Bach;
We extend a special welcome to our visitors. Portland First United Methodist Church declares that we will be an advocate for peace in our local communities and world. As a Reconciling Congregation, members of this congregation have pledged to welcome and support all who want to worship with us, regardless of race, gender, class or sexual orientation.
Visit the Coffee Hour after worship today for a tasty treat, good coffee, and lively conversation. It is a great opportunity to learn more about the people and programs of First Church.
Date: March 25, 2012 Title: Pathway of Obedience Preaching: Rev. Dr. Donna Pritchard Scripture: Jeremiah 31:31-34; John 12:20-33
“The days are surely coming, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah…” God is doing a new thing – or so says the prophecy of Jeremiah, about six centuries before Jesus. God is doing a new thing – or so we say, about 200 centuries after Jesus!
So how can something so old be called “new?” What is there for us in this vision of covenant which the world has not already seen or heard, judged and rejected? What could there possibly be for us in this day, that could excite us to our feet with shouts of hosanna and the recognition that here, at last, is something “new and improved”?
Perhaps we cannot answer that question for ourselves without first answering it for Jeremiah. Remember now, Jeremiah is preaching to the people of Israel at a time when everything has fallen apart all around them. His proclamation of a new covenant is given in the midst of agony – agony at the failure of the old covenant. That one now lies broken in the dust, where judgment and anger would certainly be justified if God considered only how far the people had drifted between the intention and the practice of their covenant relationship.
There is plenty of reason for God to be angry. And yet this morning what Jeremiah brings is a word of hope. He speaks of rescue and release, of restoration and return. Here, Jeremiah is done with the scolding of his last 29 chapters. Here, Jeremiah says that God will have compassion on the people, and that God is offering us a core experience, a core identity, which is based upon God’s forgiveness.
Biblical scholar Walter Bruegemann says of this passage, “Israel is now completely unburdened from the past,” because of a relationship in the present moment. And Martha Spong puts it this way when she writes:
“Oh, I suppose you could make the argument that God plans it that way all along, that God is unchanging in relationship to the people. But that is tirelessly stubborn. I prefer to make the claim that this God we worship is so clearly relational…”
God is so clearly relational with this offer of a core experience of forgiveness, and a core identity of covenant. I am reminded of an old song as I think of Jeremiah and his prophecy of hope. The song goes like this:
“Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. Blackbird fly, blackbird fly … into the light of the dark black night.”
As if to suggest that you and I can fly into the light which we know is still shining somewhere – even in the midst of our darkest night. As if to suggest that we can fly, even when it feels as if everything around us is falling apart. Or that we can fly, believing that God is still there to catch us, to meet us, or at least, to fly with us!
Now I know there is something deeply satisfying in the notion that God is the one who sets before us an external measure by which we must live. There are many who find satisfaction in placing an object law or set of ethical and cultural norms between themselves and God. There are plenty of folks who want to see God in terms of certain moral and behavioral expectations, so that whatever happens in our lives is understood as a consequence of having fulfilled, or failed to fulfill, the divine will. The problem with that kind of thinking is, what happens when I have done my level best to follow, to be faithful, to be obedient … and things still fall apart?
In our good days – in our clear-thinking moments – we are reminded of Jeremiah’s vision. And we see that our relationship with God is not in the nature of a tit-for-tat transaction – If you do this, then I will do that. Rather, God is as intimate to us as our innermost fantasy and our most deeply felt fears. And it is only really possible to know God as we come to know our own internal life – including that whisper of conscience, that childlike delight in all that is mysterious, that undying fascination with surprise.
And when we take Jeremiah seriously, we begin to see that Christian faithfulness – beginning with Christ himself – is not a matter of some sterile act of duty. Rather, it is an obedience of love. The Pharisees of Jesus’ day did their duty superbly. But Jesus laid down his life out of love. The Pathway of Obedience is ultimately a pathway of love.
Preparing for worship today, I ran across a great little commentary by a New Testament scholar, Dr. Karoline Lewis, who suggests:
“Here on this last Sunday in Lent, we best not kid ourselves. We can make every attempt to understand or argue or apologize for Jesus’ death on the cross; but if we take it for granted that it is about some sort of divine agreement or placation of our sins, we are sorely mistaken…
What Jesus wants us to know about his death on the cross is nothing else than what has to happen when you are human … What becomes human must die. What becomes incarnate, must realize its end.”
Jesus took the Pathway of Obedience in part because he knew that it was inevitable.
“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; if it dies, it bears much fruit.” To be transformed, to truly be changed, requires letting go and risking loss, whether we like it or not. We cannot become new people by trying to hang onto what is old. Adventure requires letting go of security, justice requires going beyond self-interest and risking change for the sake of others. And peace requires losing our grip on fear, and laying aside our addiction to anxiety.
Michael Coffey puts it this way:
“Either way you’re going to die: clutching your seed in your fist, Buried in your Sunday suit,
The lid sealed shut with a rubber gasket – watertight lifetime guarantee, Impermeable to the forces of nature.
And the darn thing (that seed in your fist) sprouts…
And its pale stem pushes through your dried fingers
And urges upward, straining for sunlight…
Until it bumps the steely casket lid and bends and arcs downward, Finally surrendering.
Either way you’re going to die:
You can open your hand and let loose the grain of love you bear. You can open your protected soul to life and death
And mystery in the breathable air
You can plant your seed in the welcoming earth and die to your fear And let something uncontrollable grow.
Either way you’re going to die: but if you let your seed go And die before you die, there will be wheat and flour enough To bake bread with wild holy yeast and feed the hungry world Which gives thanks for your small grain
To the One who made you to die for the fruit of love.”
So Jesus reminds us today – before Holy Week – that his death is not the end at all. Again, in Dr. Lewis’ words:
“It is no accident that Jesus helps us make sense of the resurrection before he helps us make sense of the cross. The whole order of things is mixed up … life is death and death is life. The cross is not the answer. It’s the question. It’s not the moment, but a moment in the entire Jesus event – his life, death, resurrection, and ascension. All of that is God so desperately wanting to be in relationship with us.”
God is so desperately wanting to be in relationship with us, that God is willing to write God’s self into our very hearts. And perhaps the only question remaining for us is – are we willing to meet God there? Are we willing to meet God here(within each of us), in order to walk the Pathway of Obedience, and understand it as a pathway of love? God is desperately wanting to be in relationship with us even now. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Scripture: Jeremiah 31:31-34; John 12:2-33 Sermon:Pathway of Obedience, Rev. Donna Pritchard preaching Focus: Faith requires listening & response to God
This Week’s Music
Prelude: Adagio/Allegro (Concerto # 5), G. F. Handel; Jonas Nordwall, organist
Anthem: Libera me from Réquiem, Maurice Duruflé; The Chancel Choir, Erick Lichte, conductor
Offertory: Sanctus from Messe ‘Cum Jubilo’, Maurice Duruflé; Mark Woodward, soloist
Postlude: Allegro (Concerto #4), G. F. Handel;
We extend a special welcome to our visitors. Portland First United Methodist Church declares that we will be an advocate for peace in our local communities and world. As a Reconciling Congregation, members of this congregation have pledged to welcome and support all who want to worship with us, regardless of race, gender, class or sexual orientation.
Visit the Coffee Hour after worship today for a tasty treat, good coffee, and lively conversation. It is a great opportunity to learn more about the people and programs of First Church.
Date: March 18, 2012 Title: Pathway of Faith Preaching: Rev. Dr. Donna Pritchard Scripture: Hebrews 11; John 3:14-21
Hebrews 11, which we read from this morning, keeps repeating the phrase “by faith”. The Bible is full of stories of amazing adventures, incredible accomplishments, and seemingly miraculous moments of grace, all made possible because somebody took the Pathway of Faith. Amazing things happen in the salvation story “by faith.” What about in your story? Or in mine?
John 3:16 is one of the best known, most loved verses in the New Testament. Cited by chapter and verse alone on road signs, on banners in bleachers; tattooed on every imaginable body part; and seen by many as a sort of “one-stop Gospel shop,” this verse is well known. And, I have to tell you – it is quite troublesome for me.
I find it a troublesome verse because too often it is lifted up as if it were some sort of magic, as if reciting this one formula would change anyone’s mind – much less their life. Too often it leads to the assumption that here, at last, we have Jesus laying out our territory for us, helping us to stake an exclusive claim to salvation. And I just don’t buy that.
Who’s in and who’s out? These are hardly the most pressing questions we encounter on the Pathway of Faith. Yet for some reason, these are the questions which keep coming up, the ones which plague us. It is as if humanity just cannot stand the notion of a truly open door. And so we keep producing a velvet rope at the entrance of faith’s pathway. We want God to act as some sort of supernatural bouncer, letting us into the party, assuring us of space on the dance floor, by limiting God’s grace or prescribing God’s love.
I find it ironic that even in the Gospel text today we find an open invitation – “God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but to save it,” which quickly becomes more limited. And the velvet rope appears just a few verses on,”Those who believe in Christ are not condemned; those who do not believe are condemned already.”
Who’s in and who’s out? Apparently that was an issue for John’s Christian community. And some would suggest it remains an issue for ours.
You may recall last month, the hub-bub around Franklin Graham’s suggestion that President Obama would not make it past the bouncer on the way into heaven. Graham had suggested during a television interview that Obama’s Christianity wouldn’t meet the established criteria, that somehow his faith was not “real.”
And while he later apologized for those statements, Graham is hardly the only one running here and there with the velvet ropes, apparently on some self-imposed mission to protect Jesus’ Way. So how, then, are we to find our way onto the Pathway of Faith?
The New Testament itself seems to present contradictory notions. On the one hand, those who follow the theological reasoning of Paul suggest that salvation is a function only of God’s grace. On the other hand, the Gospels, James, and other writings argue that salvation is also a function of what one does – of how we live our lives.
It is as if the velvet rope keeps changing position. So it is no wonder that we stumble around the dark, trying to figure out where the Pathway of Faith begins, and where it leads.
Kenneth Leech – an Anglican priest and social activist – once commented that “The best preparation for a life of prayer is to become intensely human.” That may also be the best way for us to find the Pathway of Faith. It is to live authentically human lives, and to become intensely human in the way that Christ was human.
That is going to take a lot more than reciting some theological proposition, or memorizing some Gospel verse. It takes embracing a life-giving way of life. It means living honestly enough so that you have nothing to hide. Imagine that … imagine what it would be like to live your life as if you have nothing at all to hide!
Daniel Ladinsky has taken the poetry of Hafiz, a 14th-century Sufi mystic, and translated it into our world and times. He seems to be suggesting this kind of authentic humanity in this poem, entitled The Shield You Hold. The poem goes like this:
There is a shield you may still hold because of so many battles.
I guess another conflict could begin at any moment,
So maybe lugging it about could be of some use;
Or is it just an undermining habit?
Does not it get heavy, so much so that you sometimes carry it
On your head at noon?
And then no wonder, with your insecurities so intact…
About casting darkness as fears can shadows.
Even if the sun is out, if the SUN is out -
If God is really all around in the middle of a beautiful day or night.
Yes, how amazing that a small umbrella or an illusion,
Held over your head…or clung to…
Can hide the stupendous fact of Omniscient Light.
The illusions we cling to – the shields we take on to avoid living authentic, open and honest lives – that is what obscures the opening to the Pathway of Faith. That is what blinds us to the presence of Christ, and hides the “stupendous fact of Omniscient Light.”
But God loves the world enough – God loves us enough – to help us put down those shields.
The spotlight is on us now, my friends. And the question “Are you saved?” is really no question at all. Rather, we should be asking one another- and especially asking ourselves, “Are you really who you say you are?” Or, we should consider this question, “Are you the same person when you think nobody else is looking?” And when you are who you really are – is that authentically human? Or are you trying to be something else?
Mother Teresa is often quoted for her saying, “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.” Someone else wrote this about her great love:
No revolution will come in time to alter this man’s life
Except the one surprise of being loved.
It is too late to talk of civil rights, Neo-Marxism, psychology…
He has only 12 more hours to live.
Forget about a cure for cancer, leprosy, or osteoporosis
Over this dead loss to society, you pour your precious ointment,
Washing the feet that will not walk tomorrow.
Mother Teresa, Mary Magdalene…your love is dangerous.
But if love cannot do it, then I see no future for the dying man or for me.
So blow the world to glory, crack the clock.
Let love be dangerous.
Let love be dangerous. And let life be honest. Because the Pathway of Faith awaits. Thanks be to God!
Scripture: Ephesians 2:1-10; John 3:14-21 Sermon:Pathway of Faith, Rev. Donna Pritchard preaching
Focus: Jesus’ gift to us is grace
This Week’s Music
Prelude: Fantasie in A, Cesar Franck (1822-1890); Jonas Nordwall, organist
Introit: Let There Be Peace on Earth, Sy Miller & Jill Jackson; The Sound Seekers, Ronnee Edwards, director
Anthem: Lux Aetérna from Requiem, Maurice Durufle; The Chancel Choir, Erick Lichte, conductor
Offertory: Pié Jesu from Requiem, Maurice Durufle; Carol Young, soloist
Postlude: Fugue in C Major, J. S. Bach (1685-1759);
We extend a special welcome to our visitors. Portland First United Methodist Church declares that we will be an advocate for peace in our local communities and world. As a Reconciling Congregation, members of this congregation have pledged to welcome and support all who want to worship with us, regardless of race, gender, class or sexual orientation.
Visit the Coffee Hour after worship today for a tasty treat, good coffee, and lively conversation. It is a great opportunity to learn more about the people and programs of First Church.
*please note that the recording of the service begins during the song by the Cherubs at the beginning. The announcements were not recorded today.
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